


Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall

by herecomestroublr



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Broken Bones, F/M, Family Fluff, Mirrors, Mom is dead, Roxy is a Little Shit, Soulmate AU, car crash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herecomestroublr/pseuds/herecomestroublr
Summary: Okay.Okay!So your soulmate is a dead girl, and now she gets to watch over you. Is it just you, or is this kind of creepy?





	Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> an au requested by a friend of mine. when your soulmate dies, you see them in mirrors and they become your guardian angel. they cant touch you, and you cant touch them, but they can touch other people and other things/objects 
> 
> johns mom is also 100% based off of me, bc I would love to be that kid's mom. i'd coddle the absolute _shit_ outta him

  
She is still absolutely beautiful to you, even laying in the casket for viewing.  
  
Your name is John Egbert, and the girl you fell in love with is dead.  
  
Roxy Lalonde, 18 years old, a high school senior and a year older than you, was driving her younger sister and one of your best friends, Rose Lalonde, home from band practice at 5 in the afternoon. A car that wasn’t paying attention sped through the intersection she was in and rammed into the driver’s side.  
  
Roxy died protecting her sister, who was currently sobbing quietly in the wheelchair to your right. Rose’s entire left leg was broken, as well as her left wrist, and part of her collarbone. She still looked awful after the accident, but she insisted on being at her sister’s funeral.  
  
Roxy’s best friends, Dirk, Jake, Jane, and Calliope, stood off to the side of the room, quietly whispering and crying together. You think you even see Dirk shed a tear. Jade and Dave would have come, but they said they felt weird about it because they didn’t know her as well as you and Rose did, no matter how much time you all spent at the Lalonde household when you were kids. They were waiting back at the Lalonde Mansion to comfort the both of you when you got back.  
  
You felt your lip quiver and your eyes tear up, and roughly rub your eyes with the sleeve of your suit, pushing your glasses up your face in the process. God, this was a fucking _nightmare_.  
  
You never even told her how you felt.  
  
“Sh-she knew…” A quiet voice said.  
  
You look down towards Rose, and she grabs your hand even with the cast in the way.  
  
“She knew how you felt about her.” She repeats, louder.  
  
It didn’t make you feel better.  
  
\--------  
  
You hate the pitying and pathetic looks that you and Rose receive when you push her wheelchair around the school when she finally came back a week and a half after the funeral. Sure, people would pat your back and give you sad comments before, but _this_ was almost unbearable.  
  
You tried to tell yourself that it was okay, that you were fine, but when you broke down in math class in hysterics your father was called and you were sent home for the day.  
  
“Take a few days off,” They said. “Your teachers will email you your work.” You nodded through your disgusting sobs and wait for your father in the lobby, bag by your side.  
  
The fatherly distress that appears on his face would have been funny in any other circumstance, but this was not the time. As soon as you see him a new wave of tears washes over you. You even almost miss Rose being wheeled to the office, also crying, pushed by a sniffling Jane.  
  
God fucking _dammit_ your glasses fogged up again.  
  
\--------  
  
Groggily, you wake up with the type of headache one can only get from crying their eyes out for hours on end. You blink and squint at the red numbers on your nightstand. You can make out the 3, but not the other two numbers. Groaning, you close your eyes and roll off of your bed, landing on your knees on the floor. Yawning, you reach for your glasses and place them on your face, standing up and making your way into the bathroom.  
  
Eyes closed, you open the medicine cabinet and search for the bottle of painkillers. Finding it, you swallow four of them dry and close the cabinet. Pushing your glasses up to your head, you splash your face with cold water and blindly grab at the towel rack to dry off your face. Pushing your glasses back down, you left the towel on the sink and brace your hands on either side for a second. You take in a deep breath and look up into the mirror. Pink eyes that were not yours blink back, and you scream.  
  
You back into the wall and stare at the mirror, ignoring your father’s footsteps as he pounds his way down the hallway to your room. Slowly your panic turns to confusion.  
  
“...Roxy…?” You whisper, and she nods and waves sheepishly. Then your dad appears in the bathroom doorway.  
  
His fatherly pajamas are disheveled, and his bedtime fedora is crooked on his head. Again, this would have been funny under different circumstances.  
  
“ _John?!_ What’s wrong?! Is everything alright?!” He asks, hands on each side of the door frame.  
  
Shakily, you point at the mirror, eyes wide and filled with tears. Your dad follows your line of sight and his shoulders slump over, his face filling with sympathy. He releases the doorframe and pats your shoulder in a fatherly way. br >  
“Son, it’s about time we had a talk. Come downstairs. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”  
  
\--------  
  
Minutes later and hot cups of instant hot chocolate in your hands, you sit across from your father at the kitchen table. It is silent as you sip at your mug, and your father from his, a bitter smile on his face as he uses his favorite mug, which happens to be your mother’s favorite.  
  
“Your mother would have made better hot chocolate. She liked to use a combination of cocoa powder and cooking chocolate in it.” Your father finally says after a considerable amount of sipping and silence. “She also would have been more comforting throughout all of this, but a man can only do so much for his son I guess.”  
  
“ _Dad_ ,” you start, voice cracking. “What did I see in the mirror…?” It was a drawn out question because you had a feeling there would be a drawn-out answer.  
  
“Well, you know soulmates, right?” You nod. “And how many different ways there are to meet them?” Nod nod, sip. “Well, there are some people unfortunate enough who don’t know until their soulmate dies.” You put down your mug.  
  
“I was childhood friends with your mother. We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to school together, and eventually fell in love. We went our days not knowing if we were soulmates, but we didn’t care. When we had you though,” He pauses, and you think you see a tear fall down his face. “She was _sure_ we were.” His bitter smile fell. “And then she got sick, and soon after she was gone.”  
  
You remember that. You were around six years old when your mother died, so the memory wasn’t that blurry. It was raining, you were in an uncomfortable suit, and you had just been introduced to death. It wasn’t a good day.  
  
“You had to stay with your friends for a few weeks because I could barely stand to look at the face that reminded me so much of my wife. And then one morning, there she was! Arms crossed and glaring at me through the mirror in our bathroom. She told me to _“Stop being a fuckin’ crybaby and take care of our son! He needs his father.”_ So I brought you home, and looked up rare soulmate cases.” Your father sighs sadly and glances out into the hallway, possibly towards the large mirror he had placed there ages ago.  
  
“The members of our family have been cursed with our soulmates, son. We only know that they’re our soulmates once they die. Then we can see them in mirrors, and they watch over us.”  
  
You blink and stare down at your now lukewarm mug of instant cocoa. “So… Roxy’s my soulmate then.” It's not a question.  
  
Your father sips at his own drink. “It would seem so.”  
  
“So then you saw mom in the mirror?” Your father nods. “What did she say?”  
  
“She told me to _‘Tell him.’_ and then gave you a motherly look. She _still_ watches over you, even if she can’t always leave my side. She still loves us, John.”  
  
You listen, taking in the weight of his words.  
  
Okay.  
  
_Okay!_  
  
So your soulmate is a dead girl, and now she got to watch over you. Is it just you, or is that kind of creepy?  
  
“So what do I do?” You finally ask your father, who smiles at you.  
  
“You live.” He clears his throat and stands up. “Alright alright, it’s almost 5 in the morning. Go get a few more hours of sleep, and I’ll wake you up at 8 for pancakes and then we can go shopping for hand mirrors.”  
  
“Okay, dad. I love you.” You call out as you leave the kitchen, watching as your father fixes his bedtime fedora and goes to wash the mugs. Again, this would have been funny under different circumstances.  
  
“I love you too, son. Now get some sleep.”  
  
As you tuck yourself in a few minutes later, you feel a pair of lips on your forehead and hear a ghostly whisper of a female that sounds familiar.  
  
“I love you, my beautiful son.”  
  
You don't have any nightmares after that. Instead, you dream of your mother pulling various pranks on your father from the afterlife.  
  
\--------  
  
“This is really fucking weird, Roxy.” You tell the mirror. Or well, Roxy. She nods.  
  
“Ya. I felt an impact, pressure, and then I woke up in a pure-white waitin’ room.” Roxy stops talking, looking a bit nervous. “Sorry… I can’t tell you any more than that… but as soon as I knew it I was followin’ you around!” Roxy frowns at you. “It was actually _really_ depressin’, especially watchin’ you cry.”  
  
You flush and look away from the new mirror hung up above your desk in your room. “S-sorry. I thought I’d never see you again…”  
  
Roxy’s lips quivers and she lunges at the mirror, seemingly hitting a wall, as her cheek mushes up against the surface. “JOHNNY, I’D NEVER LEAVE MY SOULMATE!” Your head perks up.  
  
“You knew?”  
  
“Yeah. I had a timer on my arm. It reached zero the first day Rose brought you over for a playdate, cuz we went to different schools. I guess I just forgot about it and assumed you also knew the whole time!”  
  
“N-no! I _didn’t_ know!” You exclaim, frustrated. “So you’re saying we could have been dating previously?! WHAT THE _FUCK_ , UNIVERSE?!” You yell, and grab your pencil holder, turning in your rolling chair and chucking it at the wall behind you. It hits the wall with a thump, and its contents get all over the floor.  
  
You don’t turn to face the mirror again, so you actually see the pencil cup floating and the pencils being placed back into the cup, and then on your desk. You turn and watch the blank mirror until Roxy comes back into view, seemingly walking back into the frame.  
  
“John, look. Everything was explained to me once I died. I get it now! Yeah, this isn’t the most… _ideal_ situation… but it’s the only one we have. So please, don’t feel too sad about it, okay? _Yeah_ , we could have been goin' out, but the past is the past, and we can’t rewrite history.” She places a hand on the mirror, and you place yours over it, leaning your forehead against the cool glass as bitter tears escape your eyes and fog up your glasses.  
  
“It’s not _fair_ …” You whisper.  
  
“I know, John. _I know_.”  
  
\--------  
  
“So what you’re tellin' me, is that your soulmate is a fuckin' ghost that watches over you like a guardian angel?” Dave asks a few days later as you, him, and Jade sit in your local Starbucks.  
  
You nod. “Yeah.”  
  
“That’s some _Ghostbusters_ bullshit and you fuckin' know it, John.” He says, and you groan in exasperation. Jade nods in agreement with Dave.  
  
“I’d like to believe you, John, _really!_ But that just sounds… _strange_.”  
  
“Well, look it up then! Rare soulmate cases or whatever.” You tell her, and she sighs, getting out her phone.  
  
“Alright, alright, if it’ll get you to shut up about this…”  
  
Dave takes a loud sip from his venti caramel frappuccino. “I can’t _believe_ I canceled a fuckin' date with Karkat for this shit,” Dave grumbles. “Also, you _better_ not tell Rose about this. She’s already in a horrid fuckin' place, and her mother is even more of an alcoholic than before. She’s been stayin' at my place it’s gotten so damn bad.”  
  
You shrink in your seat. You _just_ wanted them to know Roxy was okay! Well, okay, she’s not _okay_ , but you know what you mean at least. You decide to ask your faithful guardian for help and get out your new pocket mirror. Roxy actually picked it out. It’s neon pink with little black cats all over it. Adorable, really, and absolutely her.  
  
Roxy’s irritated face greets you when you open the mirror. “Tell that fucker, Dave, that I’ll tell you what he did in my basement when he was 7 if he won’t believe you.” You give her a weird look, and ignore the comments Dave is making about your mirror. “Go on. He’ll know.”  
  
“Ummm…. Roxy says that she’ll tell me what you did in her basement when you were 7 if you don’t believe me.” You say confused. _What did Dave do?_  
  
Dave stops slurping his drink and starts choking. At the same time, Jade looks shocked. She gives Dave a rough pat on the back and nods at you.  
  
“Yeah, well, Dave, he’s right. It’s really rare, but John’s soulmate is his new guardian angel. Although it’s rare, it tends to run in families.” She pauses, and realization comes over her face. “So _that’s_ why your dad put up all those mirrors! I’ve seen him talking to them more than once.”  
  
You nod, and Dave takes a deep breath. “So Rose gets a timer on her wrist, Jade has doodles on her arms, I get Karkat’s eye color, and you get a dead girl? Yeah, that’s not fuckin' fair at all, John. Fuckin _christ_ that's horrid. _Fuck._ What the fuck.” Dave rambles, and you sip at your tea.  
  
“Yeah. How do you think I fucking feel, Dave?” You deadpan.  
  
Dave looks awkward, even with his shades hiding his eyes. “Alright. Change of plans. You’re telling Rose, and findin' some way for her to talk to Roxy again.” Dave tells you, leveling his hand.  
  
You share a nervous look with Jade. “B-but… what if she doesn’t believe me? I don’t…. I don’t know what I’d do if she didn’t believe me.”  
  
“Cheer up John! I’m _sure_ she’ll believe you! And if not I can tell you some of her embarrassin' secrets from when we were kids.” Roxy says, grinning wickedly. “Oh! Almost forgot!” She disappears from the mirror for a second, and Dave lurches forward.  
  
“ _Ow!_ What the actual fuck!?” He rubs the back of his head as he regains his footing, and Roxy cackles madly from the mirror.  
  
“Dick! Serves him right!”  
  
“Roxy said you deserved that.” You tell Dave, hiding a smile behind your cup as you sip at your iced tea again.  
  
Jade laughs out loud and pat’s Dave’s shoulder as he fumes silently to himself, getting out his phone and sending a string of texts to Karkat.  
  
Meanwhile, Karkat sits confused in his bedroom as he looks at the texts he received from Dave. “ _‘GHOSTS ARE PUSSIES’_? THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN _MEAN_ , STRIDER??” He asks out loud before deciding homework was more important than the inane ramblings of his boyfriend.  
  
\--------  
  
“...so what should I do?” You asked your father and the mirror propped up beside him on the couch. God, this was so fucking weird. You were having a family meeting with a mirror. _A mirror._ If the neighbors didn’t think you were a weird family, they would now.  
  
“Well, your mother says it would be best to bring your friends, as they also believe you.” Your father tells you, looking away from the mirror to speak directly to you. “I’ll have to agree with her. You know Rose, she is a very rational person. If there is proof and multiple believers, she should understand with only a little bit on convincing.” He paused and sighed. “Your mother also says that you should dress nicely.” Your father pauses and looks at the mirror, cheeks going pink. Huh. You didn't know he could blush!  
  
“ _No!_ I’m not going to say it like that! He is my _son_ , and he is _17 years old_. He is _not_ a child anymore, dear.” He pauses again, and you sink into your chair, eyeing Roxy from the mirror. She shrugs, just as confused as you are.  
  
Your father buries his face in his hands, and his fatherly fedora tips forward. “Dear, that’s even _worse_. No. _No!_ I will _not_ say that! It’s too embarrassing.”  
  
“I wonder what she’s trying to get him to say.” Roxy wonders, crossing her arms under her chin like she always did when she was thinking deeply.  
  
Suddenly, you’re overcome with absolute love for her, and you blurt out, “God, I love you.”  
  
Your dad stops arguing with your mirror-mom and looks at you, then the mirror. “John?”  
  
Instantly you flush. “ _Sorry!!_ Sorry! I was talking to Roxy, because she was doing that cute thing she does when she’s thinking, crossing her hands under her chin, and her nose was all scrunched up cutely, a-and…” You trail off, looking away from your father.  
  
“AWWWWW! I LOVE YOU, TOO, JOHN!” Roxy says, cheeks pink and she starts blowing air-kisses at you.  
  
You turn away from her and realize you made a mistake when your father gives you the most fatherly, sympathetic look you’ve ever seen on his face.  
  
“I’m _so_ sorry you had to go through this at such a young age, John. It should never have happened, but I guess our family is just cursed.” He sighs, and you can only assume he’s looking at your mother when he looks into the mirror again. Roxy is still blowing kisses at you through this whole exchange.  
  
“Dad, it’s okay. Really!” You try to tell him.  
  
Your father’s face suddenly turns serious, and less sympathetic. “ _No._ No, John. This is _not_ okay. You _don’t_ have to be strong, you _don’t_ have to hold this in. Your soulmate-- _the other half of your being_ \--is dead. _Nothing_ about this situation is okay.”  
  
You feel your lip trembling and tears welling in your eyes and two pairs of arms around you. One is solid and warm, and the other is ghostly, but it’s still there.  
  
You really wished your mother was still alive.  



End file.
